


A Perfect Partnership

by DPPatricks



Category: Starsky & Hutch
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-21
Updated: 2019-09-21
Packaged: 2020-10-25 09:53:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20722280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DPPatricks/pseuds/DPPatricks
Summary: Starsky asks a question which presents Hutch with an opportunity.





	A Perfect Partnership

**Author's Note:**

> This story appeared in the 2018 SHareCon 'zine.

Starsky put his feet up on the coffee table, leaned back, closed his eyes, and laced his fingers behind his head. He was the picture of contentment. “I ask ya, Hutch, do we have the perfect partnership, or what?”

Hmmmmm. This could be the opportunity I’ve been waiting for. “I’d like a specific definition of _what_, please, before I make a choice.”

My best friend’s eyes snapped open and he stared at me. “Huh?” He dropped his feet to the floor and sat up straight, confusion replacing calm.

Well, maybe this wasn’t the best idea I’d ever had but it was probably too late to turn back now. Margaret and Richard Hutchinson had done their very best to raise their son, me, to be what they believed I should be: wealthy; a paragon of the Minnesota business world, ready and prepared to take over from Father when he decided to step down; aware of my social status and always working to improve it; visibly supportive of the accepted political figures of the day; married, with two adorable offspring, hopefully seen-not-heard; and a true credit to the Hutchinson lineage.

I was, thankfully, none of those, and proud of it. I was, instead, a college dropout, twice divorced with no children - mute or otherwise - and, worst of all, a Bay City, California police detective. My partner and I had so many members of the department’s brass and city officials unhappy with our less-than-boot-licking attitudes and incidents of blatant disrespect for their vaunted positions, that our advancement above our current rank of Detective Sergeant would never be in the cards. The one hope my father had clung to, after he realized I had ditched college and signed up at the police academy, was that, one day, I would rise to the top of a profession he despised, and become the Chief.

Wondering if I could navigate through the minefield I’d deliberately walked into, I smiled at my partner’s bafflement and sat next to him. “What are my alternatives, Starsk?”

“You mean to our perfect partnership?” His tone was plaintive, as if he was afraid I was going to say yes.

“Well…” I temporized, “not to the partnership, itself, but maybe to your definition of perfect.”

He appeared truly perplexed. “You’re gonna have to help me out here, pal. I’m not gettin’ what you’re tryin’ t’ say.”

“Well…” I repeated, “what if I’d like us to be closer?”

He blinked those indigo eyes I fall into every time I look at him. “I’m sittin’ right next t’ ya, Hutch. How much closer do you want us to get?”

I didn’t even open my mouth to answer, I simply gazed into the depths of blueness in which I never tire of immersing myself. For what seemed like a very long time we stared at each other. I even kept my side of our normal mental communication silent; I needed him to be the one to take the next step. 

Finally. “Are you thinkin’… what I think you’re thinkin’?” 

“I don’t know, Starsk. What do you think I’m thinking?”

“We’re already everything we can be to each other.… Everything, that is… except… fuck buddies.” I grimaced and he hunched a shoulder. “Sorry, Hutch. I didn’t mean that to sound… crude.”

“What did you mean?”

“We’re everything to each other except… lovers.”

“Oh, I like that word much better. Don’t you?”

“‘Course I do!” Clearly unsettled, Starsky got to his feet, moved to the other side of the coffee table, turned and looked at me. “But we can’t be lovers, we’re cops! We’d be drummed off the force. I.A. would have our necks…” He grinned suddenly, his innate impish sense of humor peeking through. “Or other bodily parts, on a platter.”

“Not if we were careful.”

He began to pace, slowly, deliberately, each step measured, and he was unusually quiet. My sometimes-frenetically-active partner was clearly thinking of possibilities, contingencies and ramifications. After his fourth or fifth trek across the floor - I’d lost count - he stopped in front of me, a look of such vulnerability on his expressive features, I wanted to take him in my arms and soothe all his worries. Instead, I remained seated and silent.

“You’re serious about this, aren’t you?” he asked.

“Never more.”

Walking around the table, Starsky sat down next to me. Almost delicately, he picked up my right hand with his left and entwined our fingers. “How long’ve you been waiting to say something?”

“Since Gunther.”

He studied our hands as if he’d never seen anything like them. “That’s not so long.”

“Eighteen months.”

“A lifetime?” Starsky’s tone was soft with understanding as he looked up.

“Seemed like it.”

With his right hand, he began to caress our linked digits, looking down at them again. “Think we could pull it off?” 

“When have we ever failed at something we really wanted to do?”

“We wouldn’t have any problem if we quit the force.”

“I don’t want to quit, Starsk! You’ve only just gotten back to where you were before the shooting. We’ve only just gotten a conviction on the slime ball. There’s still lots of work for us to do!”

He looked up at me again and the uncertainty I expected to see in his eyes wasn’t there. Instead, he exuded sly calculation. “Well… if we stayed, we’d have to be careful as hell.”

“Circumspect doesn’t even begin to cover it,” I agreed.

For the first time, Starsky smiled, and my heart literally skipped a couple of beats. “This is really weird, Hutch, but I’m wantin’ to kiss you right now.”

I could hardly believe what he’d said but wasn’t this what I’d hoped for? His beautiful face was so close, I closed my eyes and leaned toward him.   
The touch of his lips was softer than I’d imagined and more tentative than most women I’d kissed. I opened my eyes, not moving, as he broke the contact and sat back. He hadn’t let go of my hand.

“Okay, Blondie. First step’s behind us and I gotta admit, it was a hellava first step.” He looked down at our hands. “Where do we go from here?”

My libido was turning handsprings but I’d never been here before and I didn’t know any more about how to proceed than he apparently did. “Uh… the bedroom?”

My man-of-the-world, unflappable partner actually blushed. After a moment’s hesitation though, he leaned in and kissed me again. “You ever done this with a man?”

I shook my head, a matching flush rising to my cheeks. “Nope. You?”

“I had a few experiences with hand- and blow-jobs in the army and I can tell you it ain’t something I’d want to repeat unless…” He stared into my eyes.

“Unless?” I prompted, almost afraid to breathe.

“Unless,” he said again, “it was with someone I was truly in love with.”

“And where am I in that equation, Starsk?”

Starsky leaned back, clearly contemplating the situation. Not releasing my fingers, he stroked each one gently before meeting my gaze again. “I’ve loved you forever, Hutch. You know that, right?”

I simply could not put a response into words. I held his stare and waited.

“So… maybe… what I’ve been, and never realized it, is _in_ love with you.” Starsky crooked the beginnings of one of his patented lop-sided grins at me. “You think that’s possible?”

“I guess I’m hoping it is. Because I’ve been _in_ love with you for a year and a half.”

“Well…” he rolled the word around in his mouth and his smile widened. “I sure like the way you kiss, so I’m willing to bet we could steam up the sheets if we decided to make this a more perfect partnership than the perfect I was thinkin’ about a few minutes ago.”

“Really, Starsk? You’re not just saying that because --”

“Don’t go gettin’ cold feet on me, Blintz.” Starsky jumped up and dragged me up with him. Still holding my hand, he scanned up and down my body. When his gaze scorched over my crotch, my cock twitched and began to stretch the fabric of my cords. His smile turned positively wicked. “Now _that’s_ an effect I don’t believe the simple touch of my eyes has ever had on anyone before.”

“Believe me, buddy…” I was suddenly very short of breath. “There is nothing simple about the touch of your eyes.”

“Sweet talker.” He started toward the bedroom and although I still wasn’t breathing properly, I was practically on his heels. “I’ve seen you naked, Hutchinson, but…” He turned and looked at me, scanning again. “I can’t wait to see you _naked_.”

I began to unbutton my shirt before he gently slapped my hands away. “Nuh uh. You may have started this, partner, but I want us to be on equal footing. We’ll undress each other. Okay?”

I spread my hands, happily surrendering my body and soul into his keeping. And I had never, ever, been more sure that they would be in good hands.

*******

Perfect partnership  
Defined in different ways  
Coming together


End file.
